


When You Can't Find A Hero, Become One

by meandminniemcg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But I promise a happy end, Department of Mysteries, Devil's Snare - Freeform, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Magical Theory, Mystery, POV Draco Malfoy, Sentient Grimmauld Place, Sexual Content, angst and sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-03-01 16:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandminniemcg/pseuds/meandminniemcg
Summary: After Harry Potter's mysterious disappearance, wizarding Britain moved on. Some moved on because they didn't care, some to keep the pieces of their lives together or to be strong for their traumatized loved ones. But Draco couldn't move on. He decided to do whatever it takes to find out what happened to Potter. And Slytherins are good at doing whatever it takes.





	1. Come And Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on Maesterchill's prompt "Wherever You Are" (Winnie-the-Pooh; Pooh's Grand Adventure, Disney 1997). I hope you'll like my approach to the prompt, even though it might be a bit different from your expectations.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to my amazing betas C and O.
> 
>  
> 
> The Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic, and Winnie-the Pooh belongs to Disney. No copyright infringement is intended.

One month after Harry Potter‘s mysterious disappearance, the wizarding world moved on. The press proceeded to other news; Head Auror Robards’ son Apparated drunk and splinched himself in the presence of three Muggles, leaving his genitals behind. Robards weathered the shitstorm the press poured out on him, but barely. While usually such political affairs would have interested Draco, this time he was just angry that any secondary scandal interfered with the very important question at hand: Why did people so easily accept that Harry James Potter had disappeared? But he believed that those close to Harry would know how to find him and bring him home healthy and happy.

Three months after the disappearance, he found that hope shattered; nobody even seemed to be looking for Harry Potter as far as he could tell. They seemed to have moved on, too. Hermione Granger-Weasley wrote in the Quibbler about the right to mental healthcare, but there was not even a mention of the Golden Boy.

  
Draco’s thin-stretched patience with the people who had called themselves Potter’s friends expired on a Friday when he was babysitting Teddy, as both Remus and Tonks were at St. Mungo’s and Aunt Andromeda was visiting them.

It began with Aunt Andromeda asking him to take a children’s DVD away from the house, as it was responsible for Remus’ latest breakdown. It looked very innocent, a chubby yellow bear was painted on the cover along with a brown-haired boy, and the title was Winnie-the-Pooh. What about it could cause a war hero to break down? A war hero who in addition was a werewolf? What kind of movie did they show his little cousin? He would have to look at it. But for now, he tried to be a good babysitter and pieced a magical jigsaw puzzle of a dragon together with Teddy, that started moving as soon as the last piece was in place, and then prepared hot chocolate for Teddy and himself.

“Uncle Draco, can you put a few marshmallows into my hot chocolate, like Uncle Harry always does?”

“Of course, Teddy.”

“Do you think Uncle Harry will ever return? And do you know where he is?” The little Metamorphmagus asked him with sad eyes.

“I definitely hope he will, and if I knew where he is, I would make sure he comes back.”

When Andromeda returned, he Apparated directly to his London flat, where he had a magic-proof room with a TV, a DVD player, and a laptop. He watched the DVD, and at first found it hard to imagine how someone would get more depressed by a bunch of transfigured-to-speak stuffed animals who don’t get that the child they were transfigured for just went to school. And why was there no house elf tidying them up and informing them that Christopher Robin was in school?

But when the bear in the red pullover sang “I can only dream of you / Wherever you are / I'll hear you laugh / I'll see you smile / I'll be with you just for a while,” an image of Potter popped up in his mind, from the last time he had seen him. It had been in the Ministry lift, and Draco had stumbled over a broom a Magical Games and Sports employee was holding. Potter had steadied him, then smiled at him and said: “Not that I mind holding you in my arms, but I don’t think this is the right location for it.” Then he had smiled and winked.

Draco had grumbled, “As if I wanted to be held by someone who doesn’t know what a comb is.” But his cock had been painfully hard, and he had thought, that whatever would happen, this crush on Potter was likely to never end. However, that would not mean acting upon it. Potter could never love a death eater. And he had a habit of not taking well that he couldn’t have something.

The song went on: “But when the morning comes / and the sun begins to rise / I'll lose you / Because it's just a dream / When I open up my eyes / I'll lose you,” and Draco felt the tears welling up in his eyes. He understood now. This was it; he knew that Remus was a father figure for Potter; it was common knowledge that Potter’s parents’ best friends had been Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Surely Lupin had close-to-fatherly feelings for Potter; hence the breakdown. Lupin must have had PTSD even before the first war had affected civilians, considering that he was bitten by a werewolf as a child, then he lost all his close friends in the two wars, and now Potter, his almost-godson.

Draco saw the happy ending of the movie, but it didn’t touch him half as much as the song of that lost and lonely stuffed bear. He cursed his good memory for tunes and lyrics when it haunted him into his dreams. He saw Potter in a dungeon as bad as the Manor’s during the war singing “I'm out here in the dark / All alone and wide awake / Come and find me / I'm empty and I'm cold / And my heart is about to break / Come and find me.” The dream Potter was as scrawny and had as big of rings around his eyes as after his godfather died. Draco wanted to get there, but he seemed to slip backward about as fast as he walked. He woke up screaming at three-thirty am and didn’t fall back to sleep.

The next day at his training, Draco was unable to concentrate. At noon, Carey sent him home to recover from that migraine he claimed to have. Having a migraine was not a reason to drop out of the Unspeakables training, so it was a feasible excuse.

He wrote a letter to Weasley about what they were going to do about Potter’s disappearance.

There was never an answer; and as much as he knew that the Granger-Weasleys weren’t obliged to answer him, it increased his anger with them. Wasn’t Potter their friend? Had they just been around for a piece of his fame? Two days later, after finding himself unable to spend one hour without feeling the lack of Potter like a leaden weight on his shoulders, he wrote another more aggressive letter.

The next day, he had an appointment with Mr. Bulstrode, a cousin of Millicent’s and his family’s solicitor, whose office was in Hogsmeade; and Bulstrode showed him where they were working on a statue for Potter. So, those people assumed Potter was gone for good, dead or gone away never to return. Draco excused himself promptly, disappeared in Madame Puddifoot’s loo stall and cried until he didn’t have any tears left.

That evening he sent the first howler to the Granger-Weasleys. How could they forget their best friend and not try to find him? He kept sending howlers every day. But there was no news of them trying to find him.

After one more month, Draco Flooed to their door and knocked impatiently.

As the door opened slowly, he shouted: “How dare you not look for Pott– Grang-“ Granger sported a huge baby bump, and he heard the sound of a walking stick in the back of the house.

“Is the Ferret insulting you, Mione?” Weasley limped closer supporting himself on a walking stick.

“Granger, Weasley, please forgive me, I didn’t know…”

“Right, Ferret, you don’t know shit, but keep sending us howlers. We fucking miss him. But we can’t– Malfoy, are you crying?” Weasley gaped at him with his mouth open.

“Come in, Malfoy.” Granger said softly taking him by the arm and walking him to their drawing room and making him sit down on a cream-colored sofa. Weasley Accioed a handkerchief and a cup of tea for him. “You miss him, too? I never knew you cared about Harry.”

“Do you know more about his disappearance?” Draco finally asked, when he had calmed down enough to get the words out.

“When he disappeared, I was in St. Mungo’s after a raid had gone terribly awry and my whole body was cursed; I’m glad I survived and it’s only my legs that will never be fast enough for Auror work again. When my medical treatment is finished, I’ll work in my brother’s shop. The last time I saw Harry, he told me that he had discovered something in an old book, and that he might have a surprise for us all soon, but that it was a bit risky. I told him not to do anything dangerous. But it seems he did.” Ron started sobbing, and Draco also couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up again. Before they knew it, the three of them were hugging each other and crying on each other’s collars. But crying with the Granger-Weasleys was at least not crying alone.

“I– I– was too– busy to pay at-tention to Harry. There– was some-one breaking into the– Department of– Mysteries– polyjuiced as– me.” Granger sobbed, and Draco felt her baby bump nudge him, as if the baby was trying to get him to do something. “And– I ex-pect twins. Harry had to– do whatever – dangerous and– stupid thing– he got– up to– at the– worst– time ever.”

“The last time I saw him, he smiled and winked at me. Since my mother and Andromeda had reconciled, he'd been so friendly to me. I thought, maybe he doesn’t hate me anymore.” Draco shared the story of the last time he saw Potter. “But I feel like I should have noticed something. Yet, I didn’t.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t think that he would disappear soon after,” Weasley said softly.

“Ginny would like to find him, too, but she has all hands full with keeping George sane. Since Fred’s death, he feels as if he’s only half of himself.” Draco saw Weasley’s hands tremble, and something stirred inside his mind. So, they weren’t looking for Potter, because they had to hold the pieces of their world together, that had still not healed after the war. The war, in which he had played an awful role. What if he was the only one who could do something to find Potter? He couldn’t wait for the heroes to get their wounds healed far enough to do another heroic thing. A capable and independent coward like him could probably do more than incapacitated heroes. And even if it was finding out whatever he could to make it easier for whatever hero could be capable first.

“Granger, Weasley, can you tell me all you know about the things Potter occupied himself with before he disappeared? I need to figure out what happened to him. I can’t bear to not know.”


	2. Loyal

“Accio Draco’s attention!“ Pansy waved her hand in front of Draco’s eyes. “Honestly, Draco, you stare at your fireplace and don’t even acknowledge me as I come through.”

“I’ll look for another best friend, one who respects my privacy,” Draco mumbled.

“If I had respected your privacy last year when that guy had cursed you, you wouldn’t be alive today. So, what’s the reason for your present meltdown? It wouldn’t be that bad if your present fuckbuddy didn’t just turn out to be Potter on Polyjuice, that always makes you sad, but doesn’t make it okay to fail to acknowledge me. Did Weasley threaten to have you arrested for harassment?” Pansy gave him a stern look.

“No, the Granger-Weasleys asked me to come in, and we cried together,” Draco said bleakly.

“Draco Lucius Abraxas Cygnus Malfoy!” Pansy’s voice had the shrillness it always took on when she tried to conceal extreme worry behind anger. Something Draco wished he didn’t know so well.

“Ron walks with a stick, and Hermione is expecting twins. They can’t look for Potter.” A tear ran down Draco’s face.

“Ron! Hermione! So, that wasn't sarcastic? They really cried with you? I always assumed they knew where he was and wanted to keep his secret.” She stooped down and hugged him.

“I wish they did. Just to know that he’s safe. Merlin’s Balls! I miss him. And I know I could only ever look from afar and fantasize about him, but still…” he muttered into her shoulder.

“I know, Beans,” She stroked his hair, the motion, and using his childhood nickname that he had acquired due sticking an earwax-flavoured Bertie Bott’s bean into his ear when he was five years old, grounded him a little. “I’ve been there since the day you visited me after your first trip to Madam Malkins, when you cried that the boy you wanted to go and have adventures with was Harry Potter and your father told you that he’s the enemy.”

“And today we know that my father was the enemy. I’m glad even Mother realized how abusive his ways were. I’m glad he’s in Azkaban for life.” Since Lucius was imprisoned, Narcissa had stopped drinking and started attending mind healing sessions. The mind healing even cured her from her blood purism. Her mind healer’s last name was Abbott, and Narcissa had assumed, that she was from the Pureblood family, while Vanessa Abbott was a Muggleborn, and if she was related to the pureblood Abbotts at all, then the common ancestor was at least two hundred years ago. And Narcissa had a very high opinion of Vanessa Abbott.

“Another topic: Thank you for not buying the bullshit the Prophet writes.” Draco squeezed her hand for a moment.

“We both know how idiotic Rita Skeeter is. If you remember all the nonsense on Granger and Potter in fourth year. And even Nott doesn’t really think that ‘riding into the sunset’ is a thing.”

“I did some research; it was a thing in a very limited context: In the USA of the nineteenth century. It meant that a cowboy moved on to the west, as had been his original plan anyway. Later, it was a popular ending of a movie genre. I even found out that that ‘Muggle expert’ Skeeter interviewed was a man with an American accent she saw in front of Buckingham Palace. Skeeter’s secretary said he was wearing a pretty nifty hat that curved up at the ends, so she assumed he was important.”

“So, you have no hint what might have happened to Potter, and as I know you, you’ll not give up until you find out?” Pansy stated more than she asked.

“Yes, that is my plan. Why?”

“And have you asked Granger and Weasley if you can look for clues in Potter’s house? Or did you assume Skeeter’s American tourist knows the answer?”

“Weasley will show me this afternoon. Pans, what if I never see Potter again?”

“You’ll not only see him again – you’ll get married to him. I don’t need a crystal ball to foretell that. Ever since you’ve known him, you both have been all about watching each other and demanding each other’s attention. If there’s such a thing as soulmates, I’ve never seen anyone with such a high soulmate factor as the two of you.” Pansy gave him a smile. “Make sure you eat, go to your meeting with Weasley, and I’ll firecall you again in the evening.” She kissed his cheeks and Flooed home.

Get married to Potter, where did Pansy get that idea from. Not that he wouldn’t want to be with Potter, but he was sure that chance was forfeited when he had taken the Dark Mark. Draco could love Potter, and he had no doubt in his mind that he did, but Potter could never love him back.

Maybe, finding out where Potter was could be a part of making up for the wrongs of his teenage years and giving something back for the undeserved mercy of Potter speaking on his behalf at his trial and for convincing his friends at the Ministry that Draco was reformed enough to be eligible for a position as an Unspeakable Trainee a year after the end of his probation. After all, who else would have believed in his reformability enough to even think of it.

And Draco would be damned if he didn’t do his very best to make sure he would one day live up to Potter’s trust.

  
Weas- Ron had given him a piece of paper with the words “Harry Potter lives in Number 12, Grimmauld Place.” He looked at it, and Apparated there. As he stood in the street and saw the house appear between the two other houses, he wondered what Potter would think of him standing at its threshold. Would Potter consider him an intruder? Would he reproach Ron for giving Draco the address? Draco would consent to being Obliviated, if only he could see Potter’s face again from afar, or just from the cover of Witch Weekly.

“M-Draco,” Ron’s bass voice called out from the stairs. Draco sped to him cringing inside at his plebeian waving. Still, plebeian or not, those were the people who could help him find Potter, the people closest to Potter. If he had not been such a git all those years ago, he could have befriended them and taught them not to act so plebeian.

“Hello, Ron, have you found any indication where he might have gone? I take it you’ve looked for already.” Draco asked as he ascended the stairs.

“I tried to, but the house is acting weird, it won't even let me go into his study. Kreacher says that it’s trying to protect Harry, but what it does is the actual opposite.” Ron’s voice was shaky, as if he was fighting back tears.

“I think I’ve seen the front of this house before, when I was a child.” Draco said tentatively.

“That’s likely. Harry inherited it from Sirius.”

Draco clapped a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “That’s brilliant. I might be able to get us into the study.”

“Really? Do you need Kreacher for it?” For the first time since Draco had stood at their door, Ron looked hopeful.

“Yes, that would be good. He has served the Black family for all his life, hasn’t he?”

“One moment.” Ron disappeared behind a corner and returned after a short while with an ancient house elf.

“Mr. Ron Weasley told Kreacher Master Draco is being from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?” The elf bowed.

“Yes, Kreacher, and I’m here to perform my vow of loyalty and do family business,” Draco said in the tone expected from an aristocrat.

“Master Draco can be following Kreacher to the Tapestry room.” The elf climbed the first five, groaning with the effort of it, until Draco touched his shoulder.

“Kreacher, you can Apparate up and meet me in the top corridor. We’ll be faster.” He smiled at the elf.

“Kreacher would iron his hands but Master Harry is forbidding it,” Kreacher replied.

“And I forbid it, too. You have served the House of Black for so many years, you have deserved the privilege of passing on walking duties to a younger generation of elves. Your duty should be planning the chores for younger ones.” Draco smiled, knowing that his father would hate to see him being charming to an elf. But his mother had freed all their elves and given them paid employment instead. Some had left, but most had decided to stay, now that Father was no longer around to kick and insult them. With their help, she had started a mail order business selling wand-holsters with embroidered decorative padding. The floral patterns were all the rage, because people didn’t know that Narcissa Malfoy was behind Sireg florals.

From the profits, Narcissa paid the elves’ salaries, and donated her own share to different charities. She had enough to live on, and her business was her way of re-compensation towards the elves.

Kreacher opened the door to the Tapestry room, the former drawing room that was no longer used for that purpose, as Draco could tell by a lack of items indicating a frequent presence apart from casting cleaning charms.

He positioned himself in front of the trunk of the family tree, and declared in a firm voice: “My name is Draco Lucius Abraxas Cygnus Malfoy, son of Narcissa Malfoy, née Black. A Black by blood, though not by name. I declare my loving loyalty for Harry James Potter, Lord Black by adoption, heir of Sirius Black the last Black by Name. I vow to help and support Harry James Potter in all his endeavors, acknowledging him as the lawful Lord Black. Mens mea lege, si non veritatem dixi, confunde me.” A wind seemed to sweep around his head, then he heard a slight creaking. “Please, if you find me worthy, open his study to me. I want to help him to return safely.”

With a rattling sound, a bunch of keys landed in front of his feet.


	3. The Lady Black Keys

Draco stared at the key and felt his knees go weak. He collapsed onto the sofa. The bunch of keys was not the ordinary family business key bunch that would be given to a cousin or maybe fourth or fifth sibling, as he would have assumed. The sign of the Black crest on the main key was golden, as his mother’s key of Malfoy Manor. Since Father’s arrest, he held the Lord Malfoy key, on which all Malfoy crests were golden.

This was the bunch of keys that would be given to the spouse or to a parent of an underage heir if said heir was not the child of the head of the House of Black. The house seemed to trust his loyalty beyond measure, and give him a power he didn’t really deserve. It should be Tonks’ keys, but not his. And he had to tell someone who was important to Potter.

“R-Ron, look at this,” he exclaimed. He would need to use these keys, but he had to let Ron know.

“What’s wrong? Did the house fight you?” Ron came into the room with a worried look.

“No, it – it gave me the Lady Black Keys.” Why did his voice have to sound so shaky?

“I’m sorry that it misgendered you.”

Until the day before yesterday, Draco would have rolled his eyes. “It’s not about my gender, these are the keys for Lord Black’s spouse, or of the heir’s parent. In most cases that would have been Lady Black. The Weasleys have a less hierarchical family structure. Because of that, there are no hierarchic keys.”

“We also don’t have a Manor.” A shadow of a smile appeared on Ron’s face. “And I wouldn’t want one.”

“A manor is nice when you are small and your biggest problem is that you are afraid of the peafowl. But since the time Voldemort was at the Manor I can’t bring myself not to hate it. I tell Mother that her renovating and refurnishing makes a difference, but it doesn’t. The Manor stopped being my home.” Draco rubbed his index finger across a structured cushion to ground himself.

He felt a big hand on his shoulder. “I know. Friends?”

A tear rolled down his cheek. “You’d really offer me friendship? I mean, of course, yes, friends, but…”

“I wouldn’t have befriended the boy you were, but the man you are today deserves and needs friends. But you have to respect me as I am.”

“Not call you Weasel?” Draco quipped despite himself.

“Only if you want me to call you Ferret.” For a second, a grin appeared on Ron’s face. It reminded Draco of watching the Golden Trio at Hogwarts. Potter would have grinned with Ron. Seeing Ron or Hermione grin had always been a signal to look at Potter. Focus, Draco. You have something to do if you want to see Potter’s smile again.

“I think we’d better try to get into the study. Do you know where it is?”

“Sure. You know Harry lives here.” Ron opened the door to the corridor and walked in uneven steps supporting himself heavily on his stick to a room down the corridor. “You can try to unlock it.”

Draco touched the door knob with the keys and whispered Alohomora.

  
With a creaking sound, the door swung open and revealed a bookshelf, a big desk with a Muggle chair, and a blue sofa.

The desk was cluttered all over its surface with codices, books and parchments, and a Muggle writing pad sat in the middle of it, open, the page full of a chicken scrawl handwriting.

“May I duplicate things here?” Draco asked after taking a few deep breaths.

“Draco, you know that you are not only allowed to, but you’re my only hope to figure out where Harry disappeared to. I don’t want Hermione to take a too close look at things, the healer is worried that it might induce premature labour if she gets upset. I know you are very clever, apart from Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, you were a close second at every subject just after Hermione. And you've proved that you care.” Ron put a hand on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco felt his eyes sting with uncried tears.

He cast a Geminio Generalis on the contents of the desk, noticing only after it, that he had overcast and duplicated the desk, too. Ron transfigured a knapsack, and Draco stored the duplicates inside.

They left the study, and Draco locked it up. “Take the key, Ron.”

“You know as well as I do that Grimmauld Place gave it to you. You will hold it until the day you can hand it to Harry. Firstly, I wouldn’t want Hermione to get in here and miscarry, and secondly, Draco, nobody judges you as harshly as yourself.”

“I have the Dark Mark.”

“Being underage, raised by a death eater, and having Voldemort, Nagini and Bellatrix Lestrange in your own house surely made it hard not to be marked if they said so. You didn’t become a hero in those days, but I heard from Luna and Mr. Ollivander that you brought them better food and cast a few discreet charms that eased their lots significantly,” Ron replied, with his hand still on Draco’s shoulder. “You didn’t seem like someone who feels on top of the world the day you were told to identify Harry. And you didn’t tell them it was him.”

“I made it possible for the death eaters to get into Hogwarts. I caused the deaths of so many people. Dumbledore being the first one.” Tears were rolling down Draco’s face by now.

“Harry told me something else. He said it was Snape who killed Dumbledore. He saw what happened that day with his own eyes; being under the Invisibility cloak and hit with a full body bind. You didn’t kill Dumbledore; you even lowered your wand.” Ron conjured a handkerchief wordlessly and handed it to Draco.

“I nearly killed Katie Bell and you.” Draco struggled to get the words out. But he had to say it. The memory of those days would never stop haunting him.

“Draco, it was a war. We were turned into child soldiers by opposite sides. What you did after the war, how you keep standing up and writing the truth about Voldemort’s atrocities for the Quibbler counts ten times more than what you did as a frightened boy of sixteen to seventeen.” Draco was surprised. How did Ron know? He didn’t sign his articles with his name but with ‘Tatin.’

“Did Luna…?” Draco gasped for breath.

“Draco. She confirmed after three hours of Harry persistently talking about it being you. And only Hermione, Ginny and I were present and we took an Unbreakable Vow not to tell any outsider the identity of Tatin unless you yourself consented to it.” Ron smiled reassuringly.

“And how did Potter know about it?”

“You mentioned things of which only two living people had first-hand knowledge: Harry and you. Also, Harry was throughout our Hogwarts years oblivious to most things unless they fulfilled one of two criteria: Helping him to survive or being related to you. You could wake him at three o’clock at night and ask him what you would usually buy from Honeydukes, and he would give a long and precise list. He knows that Tarte Tatin was your favorite dessert at Hogwarts.”

“His was treacle tart, and he hates Brussels sprouts, which is very relatable. I detest them too,” Draco recalled.

“I know. Harry shared his thoughts about your eating habits with us on a daily basis.”

Draco wanted to hope that it meant something, but in his mind, his father’s voice popped up ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer.’ They had been enemies in those days.

  
Back in his own study, he took a look at the books, codices and parchments. He couldn’t figure out from the titles where to begin. “Ordo tabulae proprietoris!” The spell arranged them just like they had been sitting on Potter’s desk, but it confused Draco even more. Finally, he had an idea. “Incipium monstra!”

A very old codex leaped into his hand. On its first page was the decorated title:

De locis extra temporis.


	4. The Codex

As Draco remembered Potter’s behaviour at school, studying had never been a much of a passion for the Boy Who Lived Twice, but working through this codex required no small amount of scholarly ambition. It was more complicated than a lot of things Draco had to work with during his Unspeakable training, and it took him extremely long to understand the text. It was written in an unusual dialect of Medieval Latin, the closest reference he had ever read was the works of Bridget Wenlock, but she wrote far more understandably. A third of the newer books were just different dialectological dictionaries to find out what the author meant.

While working through the codex was pure drudgery, Draco found a few interesting surprises inside the dictionaries. For example a charmed card Longbottom sent to Potter, that sometimes when he touched it played “Friends Will Be Friends,” or The Weird Sisters’ latest hit “Wingman”, but once or twice freaked him out by playing _“Without you, I’m totally lost / I hung a wish on every star / it hasn’t done much good so far / I can only dream of you / and wonder if you’re dreaming, too / wherever you are”_. Other times, it stayed silent, and Draco couldn’t guess when it would play what.

In another dictionary he found a drafted letter:

 

> Dear Luna,
> 
> It doesn’t seem like you were right. I tried my best to flirt with him, but all he had for me were harsh words. He looked so gorgeous; I wish he had responded the way you said. No. I’m sure now, that he hates me no less than he used to. And it’s my own fault.
> 
> Even though it’s years ago, why would he forgive me? Just because after that awful thing I did to him, I happen to have a crush on him? That wouldn’t matter to him; and don’t say that I’m the Boy Who Lived Twice, he would say I’m the stupid prat who had sheer dumb luck, nothing else. And he’s right. I never had anyone who could teach me how to be something else than a pawn in Dumbledore’s game. Arthur was busy enough with his own children, he did what he could, but seven children and his job – he did his best. Sirius and Remus wanted to teach me, and be there for me. But Sirius fell through the Veil, and it’s my fault.
> 
> And Remus’ heart was broken to pieces. He lost his soulmate and at the same time the last one of his close friends. And Tonks and I can’t fill that huge gap.
> 
> Especially, as they are not lovers, but just close friends, who spent a boozy night with consequences, and Molly and I freaked out and urged him to marry her. We completely disregarded that her Patronus was not a big wolf but a cute little wolf cub; in other words, Teddy. I fucked up.
> 
> I was part of forcing Remus and Tonks into this fake marriage they had during the war. In those days, I had no idea that sexual attraction and romantic attraction are two different things, that just because Remus and Tonks might have enjoyed the physical act of it, there was never any potential for a romantic relationship, not like Remus had with Sirius and Tonks has now with Rhiannon Darby.
> 
> But Remus should have somebody to be with, too. And I have a plan to help him get the life he deserves to have. I can’t heal his lycanthropy, but

That was where the drafted letter ended. Draco read it again and again, wishing he could be wherever Potter was and be in a position to comfort him. But also wondering if Potter always wrote neater in letters than in notes he made for himself. It was still a chicken scrawl, but the difference in legibility was obvious and endearing.

But who was that idiot who rejected Potter?

Draco would take the Dementor’s kiss as a small price to pay if he could, just for one night be an untainted bloke and lie in Potter’s arms and feel those perfect dark red lips on his, see Potter’s emerald eyes without the glasses. With Potter, he wouldn’t be afraid of wanting things that could make him vulnerable, he fantasized a lot about it. Potter was the only one with whom he might want that. He wanted to trust Potter like he never trusted before, do things that would scare the shit out of him with everybody else, things that had caused him to break up with his flings for just suggesting them, even though they were far from being outrageous.

He scratched violently at the mark on his arm. It was there, all his hating it (and hating himself) for not having done anything against taking it changed nothing about its reality. It was always covered with bloody scratches; he wished he could just scratch it off completely.

As so often, he thought about that day, about how his Aunt Bellatrix had told him after dinner the evening before, to be ready for a special honor early the next morning, and that she was so proud of him. His father would be proud of him, too, and that they were going to have a little party for him.

_He had wanted to believe that his aunt would invite him for a picnic or whatever a normal aunt who was proud of her nephew’s school accomplishment might do, but during the night something else came to his consciousness: his mother had not smiled and she had been pale and worried, no: mortified. He tried to tell himself that it could not have been, he must have misread her expression, or she was sick, but the fear of the next day had him in a tight grip; his stomach ached with it, and he froze all night instead of sleeping. It was not a fear of death or injury, not comparable to the fear whenever he saw one of Hagrid’s larger creatures up close, it was a worse fear than anything he could ever have imagined._

_This fear and a profound self-loathing was his constant companion for the next two years, he could sit so close to the fireplace people would warn him not to burn himself, but he would still freeze. It got worse with every moment, and the day Potter cut him open in Myrtle’s bathroom, it was the only thing that gave him the will to survive: he thought he heard Potter whisper “Please, don’t die.” Not that he believed his perception, but it reminded him that his mother wanted him to live, although the two weren’t connected._

_The cold and painful fear only lightened a bit when he faked a struggle, but mouthed “take it” and pushed his wand into Potter’s hand, and only disappeared fully, when Potter had defeated Voldemort. But Draco had committed atrocities, he had fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, and he almost killed several people. And although Severus was the one to commit the murder, wasn’t Dumbledore’s death his fault?_

No, he didn’t deserve Potter’s love or even a polite smile from him. _Pull yourself together; you aren’t doing this for yourself but for Potter and for Teddy, and maybe a little bit for Potter’s friends, who are so kind to you now. You have seen the Ex Libris X. Lovegood sign at the back of the book. Maybe Cousin Luna knows something more about this book._

He went to the Floo and shouted “Lovegood House,” hoping that it would not be Xenophilius answering the call, but Luna or one of the two free elves they had employed. Xenophilius was always reluctant to call Luna to the Floo, declaring “I know Malfoys, I was one until I married Pandora. Leaving the Malfoy family and taking the name Lovegood was the best thing I could do in my life,” he would declare, and it would take a lot of persuasion to make him call his daughter.

Draco felt relieved when small feet with flowery anklets appeared beside the hearth, and Luna knelt down at the fireplace. “Draco! Nice to see you. But you look like you haven’t slept for days.”

“I do sleep, but it’s too short and I have nightmares. And you know, I can’t take Dreamless Sleep. I need to ask you some questions about Potter.”

“You will find him, Draco. Firenze has seen that you will be the one to give him what nobody else can. And I don’t think you’ve done that yet, have you?”

“What about my wand?” Draco asked fidgeting.

“He predicted that when I was in seventh year, and you were in eighth.” Luna gave him a pensive look.

“But since when would a centaur care about humans?” Draco asked incredulously

“No other centaur, only Firenze, he said that we clumsy, two-legged foals have grown on him.” She shrugged.

“What I wanted to ask you: Potter borrowed a codex from you and your father, didn’t he?” Draco proceeded to the reason of his Floo call.

“Yes, about the places out of time. Did you know that such a place is right in the Ministry? They have been connected with the faerie kingdoms, but probably the faeries have also only been trapped inside them.”

Draco felt skeptical. “It seems rather atypical of Potter to investigate such an otherworldly thing.”

“Sirius Black fell into the one at the Department of Mysteries. I believe Harry wanted to save him. You know, when people say ‘I’ll hex you into next week’? This is the dark story behind it, in old times people were really thrown through the Veil, and if they were lucky and someone loved them enough, that someone could try and retrieve them after the appointed time. It didn’t always work, but if the people followed the instructions to the letter, they themselves would always get back.”

Draco cringed. If he knew one thing about Potter, it was that he wasn’t the best at following instructions to the letter.


	5. Do what it takes

Like under a compulsion spell, Draco ended the Floo call, dragged himself to the bed, flung himself down and cried. If Potter was beyond the Veil, then he was probably dead. As far as he knew, the faerie kingdoms were nothing but a legend.

How could he tell Hermione and Ron that Potter had probably flung himself through the Veil? Flinging oneself through the Veil was suicide. It was worse than telling them Potter had died of an accident or a disease. And how the fuck could he tell Teddy that Uncle Harry was not going to return? Didn’t the little Metamorphmagus suffer enough because his parents were so often in and out of the hospital? And Remus?

Draco wrapped himself up in all the blankets he owned in his bed and cried himself to sleep.

  
“What the fuck, Draco? You promised me to use the Two-way mirror if you have a panic attack again. And now my alarm spell on you goes off and I find you curled up in a nest of blankets and trembling in your sleep? Have you forgotten that you promised me you'd seek help?” Pansy was walking towards him with click-clacking shoes. Normally, Draco would bitch at her not to ruin his parquet floors with her heels, but he couldn’t muster the strength to care about his floors or anything now. He just felt lost. Her outfit revealed that she hadn’t even bothered to change her clothes after work, and as she stroked Draco’s hair out of his face, he noticed that her hands smelled of alcoholic drinks. She was working as a barkeep on Knockturn alley, not a comfortable job, but it paid for her groceries, her minuscule apartment and studying at a Muggle art institute.

“Pans, I…” Draco tried to speak, but his voice had no power at all, it was just a whisper.

“Draco, shhhh, if you can’t speak, try to breathe with me. In – hold – out, in – hold – out…” Pansy’s voice had the hypnotic quality of someone who, almost professionally, had to deal with other people’s panic attacks. They all had learned how to calm each other. She sat down on the other side of the bed, stroked his hair, as she knew that this always calmed him, and just was there for him, until he felt strong enough to speak.

“Potter probably flung himself through the Veil.”

“What makes you think so? It sounds very unlikely.” Pansy stopped mid-stroke. “Why would he and how would he?”

“Everyone knows about how he lost his godfather. I think he went to the Department of Mysteries, and you know, he will find a way to get there. He got into the DOM before. He had a codex about places outside our time. I think you know the legends of the faerie kingdoms? Luna claims that these legends have more truth about them than we give them credit for. And that the proverbial hexing someone into next week was originally throwing someone through the Veil and after an appointed time, if someone cared enough about the person, they could try to go beyond the Veil and retrieve them.”

Pansy stayed silent for a minute, just stroking Draco’s hair. Then she said in a pensive tone: “Potter may be a typical Gryffindor who doesn’t think things through to the end, but he’s neither a complete idiot, nor do we have any indication that he is suicidal.”

“You think he didn’t…?” Draco breathed.

“I think he might have done so, but only if he’d found proof that it’s not sure death. Remember, we all thought the Deathly Hallows were just a fairytale.” Pansy looked into his eyes.

“And what do you recommend that I do?”

“Have you read all the books he had on his desk? I think he might have tried to retrieve his godfather, but is likely to have missed an important step? Before we give up on him, and you give in to your grief, how about doing more research, this time I’ll look at it with you, and you run some safe hypothesis tests? But promise me you do nothing on your own. Every test you run has to be Parkinson-approved.”

“Why do I feel like my feelings are not the only reason you want to work with me on this?” Draco muttered.

“Okay, unlike you, I am attracted to women and gingers, and I think I’ll have more chances with a certain ginger Harpy, if she doesn’t grieve two brothers.”

“He is literally her ex.”

“And you and I also found out that our undying love for each other is like the love of siblings, when you couldn’t get it up, and I was dry as a parchment. They obviously had a similar experience. At least Ginny told me that she just tried to be like the other girls in her dorm when she dated Potter. She was always fascinated with him, but it only worked as long as it didn’t get sexual.”

“Okay. I understand you, and she’s literally the most eligible single lesbian in all of wizarding Britain. I hope she fancies you, too.” Draco smiled at her. He knew that Pansy would be a great help. She had always been brilliant at arithmancy and magical theory, the only reason it hadn’t reflected in her grades was that she was extremely slow at reading the questions and writing. She turned in exams with flawlessly correct answers, but a quarter to third of the questions remained unanswered due to a lack of time. She had spells to correct her spelling, but time was her enemy. Thus, her chances had always been below her abilities. Also, Pansy was brilliant at logic. The constancy of Draco’s good grades, even in sixth year, was something he owed to forming a two-person study group with Pansy.

“So, can I take a look at your books?”

  
The next two weeks they pored over the books together, discussing possibilities and safe ways to experiment in every free minute. Pansy practically moved to Draco’s sofa, a loyal friend wanting to achieve something amazing to woo Potter’s loyal friend. Pansy, who had been struggling with dyslexia throughout her school years, as a muggleborn daughter of a psychologist had told her in eighth year, knew a spell to make Potter’s notepad legible. It proved that Potter had done some elaborate research on the Veil, and written down a plan how to go through it and rescue Sirius Black.

Draco was, on the one hand, amazed by the academic achievement of Potter’s researches, they were even more amazing for someone who had never shown any interest in an academic career before. On the other hand, Potter had obviously left out some things that somebody with a magical upbringing would never have forgotten about. At least, there were no mentions of a sacrifice to the magic of the Veil. Without such a sacrifice, there would not be a way back, neither for him, nor for Sirius Black. Also, he didn’t mention any rope to keep him connected to the outside world.

What Potter had done right was to research all the risks that could kill him, and after reading it all, Draco and Pansy were confident that Potter would be alive if he followed his plan to the letter.

  
After three weeks, they were ready for the first experiments. Pansy couldn’t set foot into the DOM, but Draco had discussed every step with her, and they had figured out how Draco could proceed with it. In the Chamber, he folded a paper crane and tied an end of a roll of floss to its tail. Material that looked unsuspicious. He whispered to the crane that it should fly until it could see a human being, put a cut off piece of fingernail between its wings and sent it off. A piece of fingernail was enough of a sacrifice for an inanimate object that was only charmed to mimic life. The spool of floss got short, and Draco had to cast an Elongo three times, until the crane came to a halt. So, the distance seemed something under ninety meters, until the floss spool came to a halt. Draco took his wand and cast a Returnare along the floss. The wax on it would lead the magic to the bird. After a few minutes, it came through the Veil. One of the wings had an earthy fingerprint on it.

  
The next experiment was sending an apple through the Veil, this time with some epilated leg hair. It was not enough for something more than a fruit, but it could do for an apple. Draco charmed the end of the floss to move the apple, slithering across the floor like a snake, the apple raised its head. This time, the Returnare charm only returned the apple after one full week, and it had a bite mark, a clear indication that there was somebody beyond the veil able to eat an apple.

  
“Pans,” he shouted into his Two-way mirror, as soon as he had left the DOM and stood inside the lift.

“I have a lecture, be quiet,” She whispered.

“It worked. There is somebody there, somebody of flesh and blood, no ghost. They bit a piece off the apple.”

“Yaaay! Whoops, sorry, Professor, I just got extremely good news.” She turned back to Draco. “I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”


	6. Completing the Rescue Team

Two weeks had passed, and Draco was stuck with his research. He had tried to send a butterfly through the Veil, but it didn’t work, the dental floss kept returning without it. He had tried acromantula silk, but it had dissolved, only a few inches remained in his hand, with a fizzled-out end.

How was he going to save Potter if he couldn’t get a thread strong enough to hold two, possibly even three people? The despair and the fear took hold of him.

On Friday night, Pansy waited for him in front of the Ministry’s Apparation point. “Beans, you aren’t taking good care of yourself. You are completely overworked and overwhelmed with this situation. And I insist that you take this evening and tomorrow off. The Three Broomsticks is holding a Pub Quiz tonight, as a fundraiser for war orphans. And you, Blaise, Blaise’s plus one and me will take part in it. Don’t talk back to me. I don’t care about your objections. We go to yours, you shower and change your clothes, and then we will Floo directly there.”

Draco knew this look. It was her ‘I won’t take no for an answer’ look. All he could do was resign to it and try not to freak out among so many people. He was relieved, that it was no longer Madame Rosmerta running the Three Broomsticks, but Hannah Abbott. She accepted anyone of their year, regardless of their past, provided they were trying to be better people today.

  
It turned out that Blaise’s plus one was none other than Neville Longbottom. Draco had not seen him in years, and Neville greeted him in a friendly way, insisting that they must be on first name terms, that it was what a man’s significant other and his best friend had to do. He looked chubbier than in seventh year, but radiated self-confidence and an air of savoir-vivre. Draco noticed that Blaise was staring at Neville with a besotted look in his eyes. Before the quiz started, Neville told them anecdotes from his job as Hogwarts’ new Herbology professor.

“And then Madame Trelawney wanted to Incendio the singing mistletoe, but instead she Incendioed the ladder to her classroom. It turned out that she is extremely scared of transfigured ladders and levitating charms, at least if they are meant to levitate her down to the rest of us.” He gestured with his hands and made eye contact with the ex-Slytherins.

“And who solved the problem?” Pansy inquired.

Neville blushed, and Blaise gave him a wide smile. “She owes her freedom to Neville. You remember what we learned about the Devil’s Snare? He can tame them. It’s something with essential oil sprays, that he’s doing close to the root, and then the whole plant bends to his wishes.”

Neville grinned at Blaise’s simplification. “Essential oils? Those are pheromones. I experimented after reading what Muggles found out about acacia trees. They send out pheromones when a giraffe eats their leaves to warn the neighboring trees.”

“You can really tame the most wayward magical plant with your Femorons? I’d love to see that. Can you show me, please?” Draco’s mind was going a mile a minute. Could that be the solution?

“He can show you, but he’s my boyfriend. Don’t get ideas.” Blaise glared at Draco.

Draco raised his hands placatingly. “The only idea I’ve got is to get Neville’s help on a rescue mission. I must admit that I have the crush of my life on the rescuee.”

Neville’s hand landed on Draco’s shoulder. “You mean, you have an idea where Harry is? It is Harry you are talking about, isn’t it?”

Draco felt his face heat up. He was sure his blush was making his face unaesthetically mottled. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“I think the quiz is starting, but visit me tomorrow after lunch, then we can talk details. I’m definitely going to do what I can to help you.” Neville smiled at him.

“How did you know?”

“I saw how your attention was always focused on him, ever since first year, you never climbed on the table and shouted through the Great Hall when Hermione and Ron were eating alone. I know nothing changed about your feelings because I saw you recently run into a lamp post because his biography was in the window of Flourish and Blotts.”

Just as Draco considered casting a notice-me-not on himself, Seamus Finnigan cast a Sonorus and greeted the Pub Quiz teams.

  
Draco just wanted to go to his kitchen and make a sandwich before Apparating to Hogsmeade, when his Floo roared to life. “Good morning Mr. Malfoy. Neville told me you want to rescue Harry. It made me happy to hear that. Would you mind coming through and having lunch with me at my office before visiting Neville? I’d love to hear about your plans and whether we can offer you any help.” Headmistress McGonagall had not changed since Draco had left Hogwarts.

Draco was surprised. Throughout his eighth year at Hogwarts, he had felt merely tolerated, and he had always assumed that the teachers would have preferred if he had not returned. And now the headmistress was inviting him to have lunch with her. “Um, yes, thank you.” He almost stumbled over the words.

Lunch was pleasant; a Broccoli cream soup, Jacket potato with salad and Tarte Tatin stood on the table in different stasis charms. “I asked the elves for vegetable dishes. You never were much of a meat fan.”

“You know that, Professor?” Draco was surprised.

“I didn’t until today, but the elves make statistics about the students’ eating habits; it helps to maintain the kitchens economically and also to make sure the students enjoy their food and eat healthy food, too. It was the idea of one of our free elves, Winky. She made that suggestion while she was at her lowest after receiving clothes from her former owner against her will. She had a serious alcohol problem for a while, until she realized that being a free elf isn’t a disgrace. Then she started revolutionizing the financial management of the kitchens. I asked her what you might like to eat before inviting you.”

“Tell the elves I enjoy the food and I’m grateful.”

He told her what he had found out and explained what he thought would help him get through the Veil to save Potter, and how he experimented first to make sure he would survive it.

“But we have heard that even if you can retrieve someone who fell only partly through the Veil, they are dead?” The headmistress asked in a worried tone.

“Our magical cores have difficulties with changes of length of time. It’s like beyond the Veil time has a different density, for lack of a better word. Similarly to needing to decompress if you have dived into a certain depth underwater, you need time to adapt your body to a different time density. The shortest span the body manages without damage between traveling there and back is one week in our time measurement. So, there was no hexing into the next day, just into next week, because that was the minimum of time wix require in between to maintain the stability of their magical cores. If someone moves partly through the Veil and returns the same day, they will die, if it is after two days, it can damage the magical core eternally. And after the return, Apparating, drinking alcohol or levitating something heavy is very inadvisable. On the other hand, as it seems, a week is a far shorter span of time beyond the Veil, it seems to be something like three and a half hours. But the person who was hexed and thrown through the Veil could never know if they would be brought back, if someone would love them enough to go beyond the Veil to bring them back, because they couldn’t just pay someone to retrieve you. It had to be someone who loved you very much, or the sacrifice wouldn’t be accepted.” Draco saw a tear running down the headmistress’ cheek.

“You love Harry and are ready to act upon it? I’m proud of you.”

“I wasn’t planning to tell him. After all, it’s not okay to say ‘I’m here to rescue you, so date me.’ I wanted to bring him back, and, if possible, Cousin Sirius, too. If Potter greets me with a smile whenever we see each other in Diagon Alley, that will be reward enough for me.” Of course, Draco longed to date Potter, but he had to prove that he was no selfish git.

The headmistress gave him the ‘well thought, but still wrong’ look. “That’s noble, but if this works like true love’s kiss, which as you know can break curses, then you can only rescue him if your feelings are reciprocated and if you make them known. There are even some curses that require true love to break them, but a kiss isn’t enough. Tell him you are okay with being just friends, but let him know. And, Mr. Malfoy, you deserve happiness.”

  
After lunch, Draco hurried to the greenhouses. Neville awaited him with tea, it seemed some Pureblood traditions died really hard. Draco was relieved to see that there was no food on the table. Yet, when he sat there, he felt sort of relieved to be able to hold on to the warm teacup. And maybe he should take into consideration who had told him that the tea ceremony wasn’t such a good tradition. It was his father who had always dubbed it a ceremony for pureblood Hufflepuffs. It was so typical of his father to call things he disliked Hufflepuff. And under other circumstances, a tea ceremony would be enjoyable.

What Draco couldn’t handle at the moment was the rule of only small talk during the first cup of tea, especially when the tea was hot and he had to drink it slowly, because the cup didn’t allow it to cool down too fast. There was still a third of the tea in his cup, when he blurted out: “So, how does the merofon thing work?”

Neville chuckled. “You are right. A proper tea ceremony will be more fun when Harry can join in, too.” He Accioed a small potted devil’s snare and four spray bottles, moved his wand like a music conductor conducting three of the spray bottles, that sprayed their contents at the base of the roots. The devil’s snare began by making dancing moves, then one branch curled around the handle of the cup and lifted it to Neville’s mouth. It gave him the cup to drink from it with a precision, as if he was using his own hand to hold the cup, then placed it precisely on the table. Last, Neville had the branches form a D and an H within a heart, and had the fourth spray bottle spray a little of the contents at the roots. The plant stilled immediately and remained motionless.

Draco clapped his hands.


	7. Operation Hippogriff

Again, a few weeks passed with Neville teaching Draco how to conduct the Devil's Snare’s movements, starting with a small plant, then advancing to bigger and bigger ones until they had long enough branches to really get beyond the Veil. He had the feeling that it was somewhat harder than to escape bludgers on a broom, and while he felt safe and in control on a broom, handling the Devil's Snare was difficult at best. But it was inevitable. He couldn’t risk bringing Neville into the DOM more than once, and he was aware that bringing him in that one time he would rescue Potter, he would probably lose his job for it. But having Potter back where he could see him and not just photographs of him would be worth giving both arms and both legs.

Again, he ran tests with a butterfly, he had gotten a Morpho just for this purpose. He conjured his initials on the left wing in red with gold, because he had to remember that he needed to be as brave as a Gryffindor to make it. When the Morpho came back, it sported green and silver letters on its right wing: HP. But the handwriting looked nothing like Potter’s. It looked like a calligrapher making an effort to make their handwriting less elegant.

Draco didn’t know what to make of it. He hoped that whoever had written this had a good reason to write HP in green and silver; which meant, he hoped they knew that Harry Potter was ready to really befriend him.

The butterfly rested on the sugared orange Draco had laid out for it, and enjoyed a meal. Draco cast a charm to be able to transport it home. “Sorry, dear, I have to transport you back to my flat. But I’ll take good care of you. And you get a name. Your name is Cupid.” Cupid turned his face to Draco and opened and closed his wings.

  
‘I think we can start operation Hippogriff tomorrow’, he owled to Pansy and Neville. That was the name they had given the rescue mission.

“I thought you had only tested it on a butterfly? I insist that you test it on a vertebrate. Maybe you borrow one of the peafowl?” Pansy shouted through the Floo, even before greeting him.

Draco hated the idea of waiting for another week and a day. He started pacing the floor and feeling angry. He couldn’t start it without Pansy’s help; she was necessary to get Neville into the DOM twice; and once Draco had passed through the Veil, he couldn’t even help smuggle him in.

Then he noticed something. He stood in front of a painting Teddy had drawn. ‘My famili’ was written on it, and under it, Teddy stood there, distinguishable by his turquoise hair, surrounded by other people. Harry was there, and beside him Draco (they looked at each other), then Andromeda sat on a chair. To the left, there were his moms, and to the right, Remus with tears falling from his eyes and a square in his hand. An arrow pointed at the square: ‘Pikcher of Sirius.’

Draco had thought plenty of times of the appropriate sacrifice to rescue Potter, but would he come back if Draco didn’t at least try to bring back Sirius Black as well? He could go there for both, but the books specified that one sacrifice would only be useful for one person. It wasn’t even known if one person could sacrifice for two different people. He decided to visit the Tonks-Lupin household the next evening and ask Aunt Andromeda, although he was not eager for her to know.

  
The next day, Pansy arrived to help him. It was one thing to bring a butterfly into the DOM and back, even if it was the biggest Morpho Draco had ever seen, but bringing a peahen was a different undertaking. Draco had gone to Grimmauld Place again, and an overjoyed Kreacher had insisted on serving him tea and ginger shortbread, before handing him Potter’s invisibility cloak. Draco had never thought there would be a time that he would walk around carrying the invisibility cloak in his hand. That time on the Hogwarts Express, he had thrown it over Potter, but he had neither the time nor the mind to feel its magic and its texture. Even more, he was acting under the influence of an Imperius cast by his mother.

_“Draco,” she had told him after the war, when he came out to her. “I've always known that you are gay. And that you have feelings for Harry Potter. I’m your mother."_

_“But you cast an Imperius on me and made me injure him.”_

_“I knew that Voldemort knew things that Potter saw. I needed to protect your life first. And I knew you couldn’t kill Potter._

Draco hoped that his intention to save Potter would make his touching the fabric of the cloak less of an offence to all that Potter stood for. He felt like his hands were unworthy of touching the cloak, but still, he couldn’t resist running his fingers across the fabric and taking in the feeling of its texture.

He went to the Manor, explained to his mother that he needed to borrow a peahen, and his mother gave him Hippolyta, an elderly peahen who preferred being around humans to being around the other peafowl.

First, he tested with Neville, how many strands of Devil's Snare were necessary to keep Hippolyta fastened safely. Then, he took Hippolyta and the inactivated Devil's Snare under the invisibility cloak and Apparated to the Ministry. He fastened a braid of branches around Hippolyta’s left leg, just like he had tested with Neville and cast an anti-tripping charm on the bird. Finally, he cast a mild jinx on her, that made her unconscious for the span it took her to breathe 200 times, and started conducting spraying bottles and the Devil's Snare’s movements. When the braid of branches was stretched, he sprayed the stasis potion on the plant, and left the chamber.

  
That evening, he visited Aunt Andromeda and Teddy. He was playing trains with Teddy in the sitting room, when the child said, “and in the third compartment, Dad is sitting and crying because Papa Padfoot is not sitting in there with him, and Harry is not sitting with him, and Harry’s Mum and Dad are not sitting with him."

“And could you and I sit with him, so he feels better?” Draco asked, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“We are there, but we aren’t enough. And we are sad, too. Do you think, you and I could go and look for Uncle Harry? Since he’s been gone, nobody is happy in our family. Do you remember how hill-hillious Uncle Harry can be?” Teddy’s hair turned a messy black with grey strands. It looked like Harry’s hair might look if he were older, at least twenty years older. Draco remembered that grey strands were Teddy’s sign of extreme sadness.

“Yes, he is hilarious. He’s the best.” An idea came to Draco’s mind. “Teddy, can you keep a secret?”

The little Metamorphmagus nodded.

“I miss him just as much as you do, so I’m trying to find him and bring him back home.”

“I want to come with you.”

“Teddy, I need you to help me here. Your grandma and your parents would go mad if you went away to look for Harry. And looking for a grown-up who got lost is a grown-up’s job.” He hugged Teddy.

“So, I can’t help you? What if you get lost, too?”

“I promise you, I won’t. Also, I’m not looking for him alone. Pansy and Neville are helping me. But there is something you could do. We could cut your hair a bit shorter, and you could give me the pieces cut off for good luck.” If he could sacrifice a few centimeters of Teddy’s hair, it would increase the probability that he would be able to rescue Sirius, too. First cousins twice removed were probably a close enough family relation, if matched with Harry’s love for his godfather.

“Should we cut off all my hair for more good luck?” Teddy rummaged his crafting box for a pair of scissors.

“Your grandma would have my head if we did so, anyway, we’d better ask her if she allows you to get a haircut.” Draco felt almost light, as Teddy pulled him towards the door, his hair turning back to turquoise.

“Grandma! Grandma! Can Uncle Draco cut my hair? I want to wear it shorter.”

Aunt Andromeda smiled at him. “No problem; he has his mother’s fashion sense, you will look perfect.”

Draco was relieved that she didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t want anybody to know; they would only worry that he might get lost, too.

“By the way, next week I can’t come over; I have to do something for work. I’ll not be available for about a week.” He added, as Aunt Andromeda wasn’t looking at him.

  
Neville had insisted on inviting them to a Muggle coffee shop for an early breakfast the day they started Operation Hippogriff. They had named it so, because of the Hippogriff that had rescued Sirius Black and itself when they were in third year and the hope that Draco could be Harry’s and Sirius’ rescuer this time. Pansy and Draco had sat down at a table in the corner, looking after their food, while Neville waited for the coffee.

“Are you nervous?” Pansy’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“Less than I thought I would be. Of course, it’s a big, dangerous task, but I know I’m doing the right thing. And I don’t want to live without seeing Potter once in a while.” He longed for so much more than just seeing him once in a while, but that didn’t help. Potter was surely not feeling the same. And if it took true love’s kiss, wasn’t it even a greater love to give someone what it takes and then still give him freedom? If only they might be friends!

Neville came and placed a double espresso and a table water in front of him. “Ready to set your inner Gryffindor free?”

“My inner Gryffindor was not imprisoned, you berk. I just never had one.”

“Says the man who turns into a fairytale hero for Harry,” Pansy deadpanned. “I don’t know if I would travel through the Veil to rescue Ginny if I had no idea if she loved me back.”

“Of course Harry loves him,” Neville grinned. “They’ll get married and be the cheesiest couple ever. I’m looking forward to that time.” He turned serious. “Draco, do you have everything? You know that it says wands don’t work there. Do you have scissors and a razor?”

“Yes, also some food, clothes for different temperatures, sun lotion and anti-frostbite potion.” He patted his knapsack.

“Beans, you’re exaggerating.” Pansy playfully threw her serviette at him across the table. Draco was surprised that he didn’t mind her calling him ‘Beans’ in front of Neville.

“Beans?”

“Childhood nickname. But only Pansy may use it without getting hexed.” Draco explained trying and finding himself failing for the first time at a haughty look.

“Oooh, I wish someone had been my friend for so long that they would have the privilege to call me by a childhood nickname. But I always felt like the odd child out until Fifth Year, when we founded the DA. I’m glad that you both are my friends now, too.”

“Of course, Nev. Blaise’s boyfriend must be our friend. Also, you’re helping us with Operation Hippogriff.” Pansy pulled him into a hug.

They tried to ease the mood by telling stories and bantering, but they all knew that the task ahead was anything but easy.

  
In the lift, the three of them held each other by the hands in a silent team-spirit gesture. Neville was already under the Invisibility cloak, Pansy had un-glamoured her most seductive dress, as her role was to keep the guards busy and to make an appointment at the Department of Mysteries, to give them a number of artifacts she had inherited from an old first cousin twice removed who had died recently with no offspring of his own. The artifacts weren’t dark per se, but they had more uses for dark purposes than for light ones. Bringing them in would be a good opportunity to smuggle Neville into the Department next week.

As the lift opened, Pansy went left, to the guards, while Draco and Neville headed directly to the Chamber.

Draco cast a locking charm, checked his knapsack for the last time, and took a few deep breaths, while Neville removed the Notice-me-not from the big potted Devil’s snare that rested under a stasis in a corner, and braided half the branches into a rope.

Draco took the end of the rope and tied it around his waist, then smiled at Neville. “Okay, go.”

“Good luck! Petrificus totalus!” As Draco’s muscles became immobile, he felt Neville catching him softly with his magic and levitating him into the Veil. The world zoned out, and when he regained consciousness, he was lying in the midst of high dew-moist grass gazing at a blue morning sky.

An ant crawled across his arm, and when he automatically brushed it away with his other hand, he noticed that the Petrificus totalus had worn off. He got up slowly, looked around and saw that he was near a few wooden houses with thatched roofs.

A strong-looking, though not tall man with long, wavy, salt-and pepper colored hair and a handlebar moustache and goatee wearing a linen tunic and breeches approached him from one of the houses. “Interpreto!”

 _A wandless interpreting charm? Impressive._ “Welcome. Call me Sally.” The man extended his hand.

“I’m Draco.” Draco saw a flash of joy in Sally’s face, as if the man knew him, and was happily surprised by his appearance.

Sally turned to the houses and shouted: “Padfoot! The guest you predicted has arrived.”

The door of one of the houses opened, and Draco gasped. This man was Sirius Black, his first cousin once removed of whom he had only seen a mugshot. When he wasn’t going half mad with grief, he looked handsome, and presently his appearance was extremely well-groomed, especially if you took the look of those houses into consideration. Draco studied Sirius’ Black’s face; he had a lot of resemblance with Andromeda.

Sirius didn’t stop at a polite distance but went into Draco’s space and pulled him into a bear hug. “Draco, I finally get to know you! Harry talks about you a lot. I’m so happy to meet the man who…”

“Hello, nice to meet you. And I’m sorry for all the things my father did to you.”

“Forget about your father. You are here. And, if this rope around your waist doesn’t deceive me you want to rescue Harry. I knew it when I saw the butterfly, Harry wouldn’t believe me. Can you believe he thinks you hate him?”

“Well, Uncle Sirius? I’m not used to prolonged bear hugs.”

Sirius let go of him. “If Harry is like his father, you’ll get used to them. But never call me ‘Uncle’ again; It’s just ‘Sirius’. Shall we surprise Harry? He’s still sleeping. Go inside the house I came from and wake him. Meanwhile, I’ll get the food from the storehouse.”

“If the rope is long enough.” Draco started walking towards the house. Inside, it was rather dark, only a kindling burning in a metal contraption made it possible to see a little. After looking around a little, Draco saw Potter sleeping on straw on the floor. He approached him slowly and silently, and touched his shoulder.

“Mmmh.” Potter removed his hand from under his head and opened his eyes. “What a beautiful dream. Draco.” He mumbled, then smiled widely at Draco.

“Good morning. I assure you, you are not dreaming. I’m really here.”

Wait, what? Had Potter really just called him by his first name? Maybe _he_ was dreaming.


	8. When I Open Up My Eyes, I Will Lose You

As Potter sat up, Draco took a seat beside him, clutching the Devil’s Snare rope. “Potter, I’ve come here to bring you back home. And if possible, Sirius, too.”

“I don’t think you can. I tried it. My rope just fizzled out as soon as I arrived here.” Harry’s voice sounded sad.

“What was it made of?” Draco mustered the courage to put his hand on Potter’s shoulder.

“Acromantula silk. I wanted the most solid material available.” Harry’s look was soft but sad.

“Animal product. That’s the reason it didn’t work. I conducted tests. That’s why I use Devil’s Snare.” Draco felt relieved to find the flaw in Potter’s plan so easily.

“Sally said it was because I didn’t bring a proper sacrifice to the magic of this place, and also, that it requires a blood relation or a coniunctio amoris to bring someone back home from here, and that Sirius and I don’t meet those requirements. A godfather is not a father or spouse, not even a third cousin. If he were my biological uncle or cousin, I could have brought him back had I…” A tear rolled down Potter’s face, and Draco wiped it away.

“He is my first cousin once removed. And I can give the magic two sacrifices, because Teddy had me cut his hair shorter and take what I cut off with me. You know Sally mentioned coniunctio amoris? Well, to take you back, I need to kiss you. I'm sorry, I know, I'm probably the person you are least inclined to kiss, but we have to do it. But when you are back, I promise not to demand anything from you. I’ll settle for seeing you smile at me when you pass me in Diagon Alley, and it will be pure bliss and happiness, if we can be friends, if you could find that in your heart.” Draco looked at his feet.

“Oh, Draco,” Potter took his hand. “You talk as if kissing you would be as bad as kissing a flobberworm. I, for my part, think I would quite enjoy kissing you more than once a day for the rest of my life. And I can’t imagine that you would come here and try to bring me back if you consider me the human equivalent of a flobberworm.”

“You would enjoy kissing me? But I have the Dark Mark.” Draco nearly screamed, how could Potter not see what a detestable person he was? Completely unworthy of Harry James Potter.

“You have it, but if you consent to it, I’ll gladly override it with my own mark. And mine doesn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. It would be just one word to remind you that you can leave your past in the past and have the self-respect to move on. Draco,” Harry lifted Draco’s hand up to his lips and kissed every knuckle. “I love you. And I can’t really imagine, that you came here to bring me back, if you don’t feel the same for me.”

“Y-yes. I love you, but I’m not wor-“

“You don’t get to decide who is or isn’t worthy of me. And you, Draco are very much worthy of me. May I kiss you?” Harry waited the time it would take someone to say no, but when Draco kept still, he pulled him into a searing kiss.

Draco had thought he could keep his self-control, but his body took over, and he reciprocated with equal passion. Every kiss with anyone else had been nothing but a poor excuse for a kiss, now that he knew what a kiss with Harry felt like.

A voice from outside the house interrupted them. “Harry, Draco. Breakfast is ready. And Sirius wants to talk to his cousin. You lads will have the rest of forever with each other. And I want to have a little farewell celebration with the three of you.”

“Okay, Sally, we’re coming.”

“Sally has an unusual name,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear before getting up.

“It’s an abbreviation. I’ll tell you more about him later.”

  
They had porridge with berries for breakfast, and Sirius asked a lot of questions about Remus and Teddy and about how Draco had managed to find out where Harry had gone to. Two hours went by, filled with their conversation.

“Grimmauld Place really gave you the Lady Black keys? I always assumed the house would be just as homophobic as my parents!” Sirius’ voice sounded loud and happy. “I’m proud of you, cousin.”

Draco blushed. Sirius seemed to see Harry and him as married already. “I– I don’t want to force myself on Harry…”

“Nonsense. Harry has pined enough for me to know that you are going to be together. He only thought that you didn’t love him back. But I knew you loved him when I saw the butterfly. I tried to tell you that he loved you by adding his name in your colors.” Sirius smiled at him. “And James and Lily would be very fond of you."

“You don’t mind that I’m the son of Lucius Malfoy and a Slytherin?” Draco gasped.

“Holding your father against you would be hypocrisy, because I’m the son of Walburga Black, who was just as awful. And Sally here is more Slytherin than you and we have become friends since I’ve arrived here. I trust you to make our Harry happy. And I trust Harry to make you happy.”

Tears welled up in Draco’s eyes. Sirius really cared about his happiness, too. Harry wiped his tears away and gave him a chaste kiss.

“I don’t want to disturb, lads, but you have some work to do to return safely. I’d suggest that you send back Sirius already and then Harry, and when the time is up, you return. That is the safest way.”

They got up and walked towards the Veil, which looked like a solid foggy grey wall from this side. Draco’s stomach clenched when he looked at it. In the middle, the green rope of his Devil’s snare came through it, like a dandelion growing out of a crack in concrete, only that there was no visible crack.

“Talk to the wall.” Sally advised.

“Wall, I want to return Sirius Black to the outer world. He is my first cousin once removed and the first cousin twice removed of Teddy Lupin. He is my beloved blood relative, whom I admire greatly. Many people outside miss him sorely, Teddy, Teddy’s father Remus, who is Sirius’ mate, and many others. Teddy gave me his hair to sacrifice for Sirius’ safe return. It’s powerful hair, Teddy is a Metamorphmagus and a child, and he gave it freely and lovingly.” Draco threw the paper bag with Teddy’s hair at the wall. It dissolved, and he saw a shift in the wall. Around the Devil’s Snare rope, it looked less dense.

Harry took Draco’s hand.

“Padfoot, you might find it easier to shift before going. But stay in touch with the rope. Farewell, my friend. Maybe you can close the portal when all three of you are through,” Sally said in a firm voice.

“Farewell, Sally, and thank you for everything. I hope you can move on soon. I’ll do my best.” Sirius hugged him, tied a ribbon around the rope and around his neck, turned into a big black dog and ran into the foggy wall. He disappeared into it like someone walking away on a very foggy day.

Harry and Draco stood there silently for a few minutes. Draco silently pleaded with the magic. Then, Harry squeezed his hand and let go of it. “Let’s start.”

Draco took the scissors and the razor out of his bag and ran his fingers through his long hair one last time to say goodbye to his Legolas-style locks. Then he tied his hair with a rope, cut the ponytail off and shaved his head bald. He threw all his cut and shaved-off hair at the wall while explaining his love for Harry and about Harry’s friends who were devastated by his disappearance.

Instead of dissolving, the hair just lay at the foot of the wall. Draco sank to his knees, curled up in a ball and cried.

“Let me try. Maybe we just don’t see it.” Harry took a hold of the rope and approached the wall, but it was solid as ever.

“Professor- McGonagall- said it. She– said that sometimes– love and a- kiss are not enough.” Draco got out between sobbing. Harry sat down and held him, crying, too.

“I’ll stay here– I can’t– let you stay here- alone.”

Draco sniffed and fidgeted with the knot of the rope around his waist.

“Don’t. Teddy needs you. I can’t have him lose both of us.” Harry took Draco’s hands and guided them away from the rope.

“Harry, Draco, maybe you should spend before the time is up.” Sally’s voice sounded calm and patient. Draco lifted his head to look at the man, who by now stood beside them. He took something that looked like a coin with a hole from his pocket. “Divisus!” The coin broke in two. He handed each a piece. “And now, you hand those pieces to each other.”

“You mean the Veil might accept a sacrifice of money?” Draco asked. It didn’t seem likely to him. No matter, he handed Harry his half of the coin and accepted Harry’s half. They seemed to emit soft magical waves.

“No, I mean you both should spend together.” Sally’s words were accompanied by his index finger piercing into a hole between thumb and index finger of his other hand. “Do it up against the wall, maybe. Don’t worry, I’ll be in the house. I won’t watch. Farewell.” He tossed a vial towards them, and Harry caught it. He unstoppered it and inhaled the scent.

“Lube. Looks like it’s the only chance we’ll ever get to do it. I always fantasized about us making love.” Harry whispered.

“Could you imagine topping me? I want my first time bottoming to be with you, I've never trusted anyone else enough for it.” Draco had never before felt so sure of a sexual decision.

Harry gave him a tender look. “I’ve never gone further than fingering and, er, intercrural. Never wanted to, but I want to do it with you.” He unbuttoned Draco’s shirt and caressed his abs and nipples. Despite his infinite sadness, Draco found this the most arousing thing he’d ever experienced. His hands explored Harry’s chest under the t-shirt, and Harry took it off. Draco inhaled Harry’s scent, trying to memorize it. They both tried to memorize every inch of each other’s bodies with their hands and mouths, but kept one ankle in their trousers, because they knew that Draco would be pulled back suddenly when Neville arrived. Harry’s fingers inside him felt like heaven.

“Please, I need you inside me now,” Draco keened, got up and leaned against the wall. He felt Harry’s chest leaning against his back, as Harry lined his cock up, then Draco felt the stretch, more than anything he’d known so far, but it felt good, so good. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he would never have this with Harry again. They both tried to feel each other as much as possible. Draco felt Harry’s tear-wet face against his shoulder, while Harry kept stroking away Draco’s tears.

He tried to hold back his orgasm as long as possible, but when Harry came inside him, it threw him over the edge. His come made a sound on the wall like hailstones on glass, then he felt a tug at his waist, and fainted.


	9. Happy Ending

When he came to, he was lying on a hard floor feeling a weight on his back. Somebody was yelling. “How dare you? Shagging in the Department of Mysteries…” The weight on his back had a heartbeat. An arm reached over from the person on top of him, stroking his face. He recognized the hand with the letters on it. It was Harry! Harry was with him. “Harry, we made it. You came back with me.” Draco whispered.

Heavy feet stomped towards them. “Again, what the fuck do you think you are doing at the Department of Mysteries? You can’t have sex in front of the Veil. You might get drawn in. Apart from the fact that it’s an awful disgrace to shag in public.”

“Actually, we shagged beyond the Veil.” Harry’s baritone vibrated against Draco’s back. “Also, Draco brought me back from beyond the Veil. And if you want to complain about him, better direct your complaint directly to the Minister of Magic. I guess he’ll give me a stern talking to and Draco an Order of Merlin.”

“Whatever. Malfoy, I don’t think you will remain on the Unspeakable Training program. I overheard Carey and Head Unspeakable Moody talk about you getting sacked from it for being away for a week without even calling in sick.” Zacharias Smith hissed.

“No problem, Smith. Even if they decided to send me to Azkaban, I wouldn’t mind, because I did what was right and brought back Harry Potter and Sirius Black. And nobody can take the memory of this moment in Harry’s arms from me.”

A door that Draco hadn’t even known existed opened with a creak. “Nobody is going to arrest you or Mr. Potter, but you won’t be welcome in this department any longer after we have interrogated you both. You will answer our questions and then those of the Aurors.” The smoky voice of Mary Moody declared.

  
The interrogations turned out to be less frightening than Draco had expected. On a fright scale, their rank would not be higher than detention with Professor Sprout. Despite the fact that Mary Moody had always frightened Draco, less because of her behavior than how startlingly she resembled her brother, Draco felt safe and secure. Over a cup of tea, Head Unspeakable Moody asked Harry how he had gotten into the Chamber and Draco how he had succeeded to smuggle Neville in. Harry narrated how he had polyjuiced himself to look like Hermione to get into the Chamber.

  
After the DOM, the DMLE wanted to hear the whole story, too, and after that, they were told to report to the Minister of Magic himself. By now, Draco felt hungry, but he didn’t dare ask for food.

Minister Shacklebolt’s secretary ushered them directly through into the minister’s office. Shacklebolt greeted Harry with a hug and Draco with a handshake. Only after that, Draco noticed that they were not alone in the office. In a corner sat Sirius.

“Sirius already told me most of what I want to know. We can talk about the rest of the details of your adventure in private, when you visit Julia and me, but we have the question of your future to discuss.” Shacklebolt gave them an indecipherable look. “Both your department heads think you are not suitable to remain in your departments and intend to let you go.”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “It’s okay. I can start a business, and we have enough money between us to be able to live comfortably for a while. I did what I needed to do when I learned that it was possible to bring back Sirius.”

“Well, Harry, Mr. Malfoy, you can of course, but I have an offer for you. Our society is still divided by Hogwarts houses and blood status. Could you both imagine sharing the head position in a newly-founded Department of Reconciliation? I couldn’t imagine anybody better for the job than you two. But there’s a condition. Mr. Malfoy, if you don’t mind, you could as a first part of your new position let it be known that you are Tatin.”

“How did you find out?” Draco gasped.

“Neville told me.”

Draco felt overwhelmed. He didn’t know what to say or do. Harry, who must have noticed his tensing up, squeezed his hand and turned to Shacklebolt. “Kingsley, can we have until tomorrow to think about it, please?”

“Of course Harry; you’ve both been through a lot recently. How about you take a week for yourselves and visit me next week on Saturday, and we discuss this over dinner? Shall Julia and I expect you at seven?” He turned to Sirius. “Remus and you, as well.”

Of course, a week later, they accepted the offer with thanks.

  
One year later

Draco nervously had a last look over the guests in the ballroom of Grimmauld Place. The house had never looked so splendid; he was sure of that. Tonight, all of Harry’s and his friends and family were around. Sirius and Remus had arrived that morning and helped with preparing for the party.

Sirius had decided not to move back into Grimmauld Place; seeing it after the renovations Harry and Draco had made, he could stand it and feel well as a visitor in daylight with Remus, Harry and Draco around. But darkness in the old house triggered his trauma. Instead he had bought the house beside Andromeda’s, and Remus and he lived there happily. Grimmauld Place had accepted being the home of Lord Black junior, aka Harry. It was not the first case, in which the lord of an ancient house had been considered dead, and turned out to be alive only after the heir had come into his heritage and thus become the new lord. The implication was that both shared the title and could only decide or change things together. Which was no problem in Sirius’ and Harry’s case. The vault, of course, belonged to Sirius again, but Harry had his own vault and his income from the Department of Reconciliation.

Draco was happy about Sirius’s support in the matter at hand. They had planned this party as a kind of second birthday for Sirius and Harry, at least that was what Draco, Sirius and Remus had told Harry and written into the invitations.

He turned off the music with a flick of his wand, beckoned Harry to join him and clinked a spoon against his champagne glass. “Dear guests, please listen for a moment, before we start the dancing part of the evening. Harry, we have been together for a year now.”

“Yes, and it’s been the most beautiful year of my whole life.” Harry chimed in, then got on one knee. “Draco, you are the one who made this last year the best of my life, you brought Sirius and me back from beyond the veil, you live with me and endure my craziest moods with a smile. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?”

Draco laughed. “Actually, my plan was that I wanted to propose to you, but that’s typical of you. At Hogwarts, you always beat me to the snitch and now you beat me to the proposal. Yes, I will wear your ring if you wear mine.”

They exchanged engagement rings, and Sirius turned the music back on. The song was ‘I Was Born to Love You’ by Queen, and Harry and Draco weren’t the only couple swaying to the music; they were immediately joined by Sirius and Remus, Blaise and Neville, Hermione and Ron, and Pansy and Ginny.

  
Nobody could know it, but at the same time, there was another party, not in London, not even in this world; in the afterlife, Sally - who was none other than Salazar Slytherin - had finally managed to move on, and was finally reunited with the love of his life - Godric Gryffindor.


End file.
